Solace
by russianwinter013
Summary: Deathstrike and Breakdown spend a well-earned moment of peace and quiet together in which reflections are made and questions are answered.


**Another little drabble. Kind of an apology for not writing anything about Deathstrike (OC) and Breakdown. So, here you go.**

 **Title: Solace**

 **Rating: M**

 **Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Supernatural, Angst**

 **Summary:** _Deathstrike and Breakdown spend a well-earned moment of peace and quiet together in which reflections are made and questions are answered._

 **Characters: Deathstrike, Breakdown**

 **Relationships: Deathstrike/Breakdown**

 **Warnings: N/A**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

Breakdown glanced up as the door to his shared quarters hissed open, setting the medical datapad currently in his servos aside.

Deathstrike entered noiselessly, wings lowered to press against his backstrut as they fanned the cool air in slow and deliberate movements. His crimson optics burned in the dim lighting, illuminating his dark faceplate in a hellish sort of light. Despite the lack of emotion displayed, the former Wrecker could tell that the assassin was exhausted.

"Breakdown." The matte black mech nodded in acknowledgment, stopping to lean against the wall as he shuttered his optics, a slight tremor running through his body.

The large navy mech stood, pedesteps echoing with a sharp snap as he stood and headed over to the other mech. Running a servo over the resting mech's wingtips, he wrapped his other servo around a slim waist. "Has Lord Megatron been overworking you again? Do you need any more rest than what you had last week?"

Deathstrike vented heavily, armor flaring ever so slightly as he moaned at the light touch. "I do not. I have merely been out of sorts lately."

Breakdown tilted his helm, optics narrowing ever so slightly. "Do you need to refuel again?"

A rumbling snarl escaped the matte black mech. "I do not, Breakdown. Just...leave me be." He turned away from his partner, heading to sit on the edge of their shared berth.

Tawny optics narrowing, the former Wrecker moved to sit next to the dark mech. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"

Deathstrike snarled softly, shuttering his optics. "I know, Breakdown. I know."

Venting heavily, the former Wrecker put a servo around the assassin's shoulder panel and pulled him close. "Then you can tell me when you're ready."

"Mmm." The Seeker rested his helm against the broad chest of his mate, engines rumbling deeply.

Breakdown pulled away gently, staring down at the matte black mech. "You're warm."

The assassin let out a deep vent and gave a soft noise of confirmation, shifting against the bulk of his lover as he shuttered his optics.

"Deathstrike." The former Wrecker placed a servo on the small of the slimmer mech's backstrut, attempting to capture his wavering attention. "Why are you heating up?"

"I am not." Deathstrike shook his helm minutely and flicked his wings, resettling his armor with a ripple. "It is only my engines."

"No, it isn't." The navy blue mech traced a servo over his mate's wings, drawing a soft groan from the mech. "You're sick."

A harsh cough came from the black mech as he shifted, drawing closer to the bulk of his partner. "Overheated. Not sick." The assassin shuddered, engines whining softly. "I told you that I have been...out of sorts lately."

"How long have you been overheating?" Breakdown grumbled in displeasure at the assassin's lack of response and nudged insistently at his side. "Deathstrike. Answer me."

"Since our last encounter with the Autobots." The assassin drew his legs up to lay on the berth, resting his helm on the broad chest of his mate. "I cannot control it, and it often overwhelms me."

"Are you certain that the Autobots didn't do this?" Breakdown growled, narrowing his optics. "That they didn't infect you with some kind of virus?"

A hoarse laugh came from the slimmer mech. "Our enemies may despise me, but even they would not resort to such grisly tactics. It is not in their nature." His voice was soft, a barely audible whisper over the rumbling growl of his engines.

The former Wrecker curled his upper mouthplate in a snarl even as his voice remained steady. "Well, then. I'll have to run a diagnostic on your primary systems. Do you want to do it now—Deathstrike?"

The Seeker was venting deeply, optics shuttered as he lay against the chassis of his mate.

He was asleep.

Smirking faintly, Breakdown pulled the slim mech closer and settled into a more comfortable position.

"Recharge well, Deathstrike."


End file.
